For My Brother
by NepenthesRose
Summary: They were created for this, raised and bred for this. They are survivors, made for this f****d up world. Warning: Mild Language


**For My Brother**

 _(Please see A/n at bottom)_

A sunlit field, waves of tall grass dyed golden in Summer heat. Kids, children, brothers sitting together running small, baby-fat hands against dry brittle blades. Dimpled cheeks, green eyes, a full head of unkempt brown hair staring innocently up at his older sibling, eyes full of hope and promise.

Blonde hair, shorter, a face more worn out, thinner and jaded. Sharp eyes of a predator protecting his own. He already knows some of the cruelty of the world, has already traveled a little further ahead on the good long road than his smaller counterpart.

A shaded house, the lingering scent of musk and menthol. A closed door, a silently crying woman with a cigarette lit between weary lips. A child down the road, too scrawny for his age, knobby knees trying to keep up with others as they race around the corner on their beat up bikes. A boy, just barely a man, hanging with the wrong crowd at the wrong place overhears a conversation between two strangers at the local bar about a fire and burns the back of his throat with another shot.

An empty trailer, broken bottles and dirty dishes stacked high. A tv that plays three channels on a good day, a rifle in the corner by the door. Walls as bare as the day they were built, no pictures, no memories. Beer cans line the floor by the dingy loveseat, one man's life stream is his children's undoing. Another day, another start to a life none of them want.

Books, borrowed from the school library past their due dates, tossed haphazardly on the abandoned bottom bunk. Native American legends, the kind ol' gramma would tell him before her spirit left her aged, marked body. He struggles over the words, his punishment for skipping so much school, missing so many assignments but he manages to understand. He pulls them out when he hears his pa step into the house late at night crushing glass beneath his boots, they bring him comfort, they bring him an escape.

Needles litter his abandoned mattress. He hasn't been home in over three weeks, his latest exploit landing him in juvenile detention once again. When he finally does gets out of juvenile hall he makes an effort to clean up his act, at least a little, pays his little brother a visit but what he's greeted with sends him reeling with inner guilt. A shy, quiet teenager with tangled hair and distant eyes. He goes home later that night and pulls out those needles. He blinds himself to the reality. He finds his escape.

It's prison this time, or the marines and he thinks it's a clear choice. After all he's practically been through the military already and good old daddy was his drill sergeant.

He's not surprised when he hears that his brother is going off to the marines or when he hears that he's going to prison for punching his officer in the face, knocking the man's front teeth down his throat. He can picture that man, dazed and spluttering on the ground in a bloody gasping mess. He wonders if his brother was seeing that asshole when he punched him or if it was the rage filled face that was currently standing before him at this very moment screaming obscenities so loud he's sure their neighbors can hear. He shrinks back as the first blow comes wishing his brother was here to help fight this battle and not off fighting ones that had nothing to do with them.

The breakout comes fast. He's in the hills too far out to know it's coming. They're blindsided, him, his pa, and his uncle jess. One minute they're hunting deer through the woods the next they're being hunted by monsters, shells of human bodies, psychopaths, walking dead with a taste for human flesh. They become the prey.

His pa goes down first, and he panics staring at his once strong daddy laying on the ground beneath him moaning in pain as he bleeds out, bodily fluids and internal organs. He wants to help him but his uncle pushes a pistol into his hands shaking his head sadly. In the back of his mind he's aware that he's thought of this moment before, in the darkest corner of his mind as he crawled under his blankets at night fresh welts torn into the flesh of his back. But his eyes meet his fathers and he's sees such a pathetic broken man and he just can't bring himself to do it, to kill another human even a man like Will Dixon. _Sorry Brother._ Jess gives the mercy shot and they head back for their lodge. He can't imagine what his uncle must have felt shooting his own brother in the head.

Another hit, another high, flesh eating corpses become less threatening and more of one big joke. Chaos breaks out in the prison and the prison guard is apparently trying to walk through the bars of the cell to tear at his flesh. The keys clang against the bars hanging limply from his belt. Quickly he swipes them and stabs the creature in the eye so deep he hears a crunch and then a nasty gushing sound as he rips it back out. Blood and brain shit coat the copper key. He lets himself out into freedom without breaking a sweat and heads for the rooftop for a little fresh air. He was never good at dealing with reality.

They find each other again. On top of the penitentiary roof. The older high and suffering of heat stroke, the younger nervous and frustrated. But at least they're together, at least they can survive. Its instinct after everything they've been through. They were created for this, raised and bred for this. They are survivors, made for this fucked up world.

Much later on, a calloused hand runs over a blood dyed crossbow, images of a strong older brother tumbling through his tired mind as he lies grieving in an open jail cell. His eyes pale green, almost lifeless. But there is still the barely kindled flame of hope in his heart.

He is a survivor and that comes at a price.

 **A/N: This was started a long time ago and so the ending is rushed and disjointed because I wasn't sure where exactly I was going with this and how I wanted it to end but I wanted to post it here before I deleted it so I finished it up. I'll probably come back to it another time to edit it and maybe add some stuff….maybe after the next season of the Walking Dead. I still miss you Merle. T-T**

 **Also the title I think was based off the Fink song For my brother and the story pretty much inspired by a fmv on youtube. I can't remember the creator at the moment, like I said it was a while ago.**


End file.
